


Operational Training

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Douglas likes to play a variation of one game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a kink-meme fic but someone has kindly suggested I x-post as it's gone very quiet over there.

‘I know how much you love rules and regulations.’ Douglas had said, suede-voiced and only gently teasing. ‘Think of this as being like that.’ 

Although actually it isn’t like having rules at all. Rules are things you find written down and learn by rote. This is more like flying, something your whole body learns to do. This is more like being trained. 

Learning that no means no, however skilfully Douglas’ fingers are giving Martin the precise opposite message. Learning patience, and discipline, not just on top, in his mind, but down into his bones. 

It’s been.. a while. Martin knows exactly how long really, but he's trying not to think about it. Long enough that it’s getting very hard now not to touch himself. Long enough that he’s scared he’ll just go off some time when Douglas is playing with him. He thinks he can feel it building up, a giant lake of unspent cum expanding inside him, making his balls especially tight and tender when Douglas fastens the textured cockring around them, parting them and pushing them forward, a second latex loop around the base of his shaft as a reminder that he still doesn’t have permission to cum. 

Because, of course, Douglas is saving it up for what he calls a nice long session. 

Martin both dreads and longs for those marathons, those long sticky aching afternoons when Douglas likes to tie him down and make him cum until he’s shaky and weak with it. Until he’s begging Douglas to stop. 

Tonight though is very different. Tonight Douglas is doing what Martin says – up to a point. 

It’s a strange travesty of power, being invited to decide how your lover will pleasure you, knowing that whatever you ask for, however good he makes it, you will probably finish the evening frustrated. 

Yet as Douglas’ mouth closes easily, greedily, over Martin’s erection he can’t help but think that perhaps tonight will be different. Perhaps tonight Douglas will let him have the orgasm he’s been denying him for.. well weeks now. Three weeks and four days spent in the same but different beds. Twin hotel rooms, separate hotel rooms, Douglas’ double, curled close so that Douglas can play with Martin last thing at night and first in the morning. 

It’s been touch and go, a couple of times, whether Martin will be able to get his erection under control before they go down to breakfast. But bizarrely the panicking and cold showers (and on one memorable occasion a chilled can of Fanta applied direct to an intimate area) and the conviction that people must know just from looking at him, only add to his constant, simmering, thwarted arousal.

It’s like he’s buzzing, wired into something, always on. Skimming across the top of the world and not touching it. 

Like he’s flying, in fact, in more ways than one. 

Only he wants to cum. Desperately, urgently. Douglas keeps touching him, kissing him, and even though he knows each touch will spin the frustration out just a little further, Martin can’t help but let it happen. Even in the plane, after landing, or the taxi out to dinner, where Douglas is sitting just a bit too close, his thigh pressed to Martin’s. 

It dies back while they’re flying but it never dies out. The embers are always there, waiting to flare back up into bright, hard need when Douglas kisses him again, palm pressed to Martin’s back, thigh strategically sliding between Martin’s own. 

Then there are the other times, like tonight. Tonight, which ends with Martin as hard and unfulfilled as he was at the beginning of the evening, denied repeatedly, Douglas’ mouth stilling or slipping away each time Martin got close. Curving instead into that self-satisfied smirk that meant Douglas thought he was winning. 

Not that Martin minds Douglas’ satisfaction. He just thinks that Douglas could be a little more magnanimous in victory. Would it really hurt him to let Martin cum just a little more often? It wouldn’t need to be every night, like Douglas. Martin doesn’t mind being toyed with a bit. 

Although if he knew he’d be having an orgasm in a day or so it wouldn’t be quite so.. intense, would it? And the marathon sessions definitely couldn’t happen more than occasionally because, frankly, Martin doesn’t think he’d survive that sort of routine for long. And although he dreads them – butterflies in the stomach and chills up his spine – he’s never actually regretted the experience. 

So maybe Douglas does know best, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course Douglas knows best. Douglas has never doubted it. The problem with Martin – one of the surprisingly few problems with Martin – is that he doesn’t like to think of himself as a person who gets off on doing what he’s told. 

Especially not by Douglas. 

Which Douglas can to a certain extent understand. It’s not been particularly easy for Martin to earn respect as a pilot and Douglas has not always helped to smooth that path. 

But it’s just a job, when all’s said and done. It pays the bills (well it pays Douglas’ bills. It doesn’t pay Martin’s bills because Martin doesn’t get paid, but that’s not Douglas’ fault any more than its Martin’s fault that Douglas is in the First Officer’s seat). It's not a lifestyle choice.

Certainly it’s not something Martin should let bother him outside of working hours. 

Especially since – whisper it low – Douglas does actually have a measure of respect for Martin. 

Admittedly more as a person than as a Captain, but that’s not unreasonable, surely? Anything else would just be respect for a silly hat. 

The game wouldn’t, in fact, be nearly as sweet if he didn’t have that respect. If Martin had been a pushover Douglas wouldn’t have been interested - and Martin probably wouldn’t be sticking to the rules anyway. The innate stubbornness that earned Martin his Captain’s chair (eventually) is working very nicely in Douglas’ favour right now. 

Apart from the occasional slip up when Douglas has been playing with him, Martin has been incredibly well behaved these last few months.

Which is why on Friday, which is the day Douglas is planning to milk Martin’s orgasms as close to dry as physically possible before bending his skinny legs back over his belly and fucking him out of his mind, Douglas is thinking of introducing some new toys that will make self-control even harder. 

‘I think you’re ready for that.’ He says. ‘And if you’re not..’ He pauses for Martin to fill in the gap with the obvious question. 

‘If I’m not?’

‘Then no doubt you’ll take your punishment like the little trooper you are.’

‘No doubt.’ Martin mutters, somewhere between rebellious and flattered. 

Douglas smiles fondly. It’s so nice when Martin agrees with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Typical, Martin thinks, that Douglas would smile at him like that just when he’s trying to think up a good retort. He’s completely derailed now. Skin too hot and his trousers too tight, and he doesn’t know how Douglas does this to him, except he’s nearly-but-not cum now for four weeks and one day and he’s fairly sure that would mess with anyone’s mind.

By Friday it’s a relief to be tied down. By Friday he almost doesn’t care what else happens as long as he gets off - and although he doesn’t tell Douglas that he’s pretty sure Douglas knows. 

Douglas who, with his hands slickened, circumnavigates his nipple, leaves trailing lines down over his belly, all to intensify Martin’s frustration. Douglas who kisses him deeply, hungrily, then pulls away and leaves him aching. 

The first touches to Martin’s cock are also light. Playful and maddening. Martin feels his hips raise off the bed of their own accord, trying to chase the sensation. 

‘All in good time.’ Douglas tells him, taking his hands away again until Martin has fallen back, disappointed. Only then does he continue, fresh lube warmed between his palms so that he can massage smoothly over the head of Martin’s cock, work down the length, one hand after the other, gently squeezing. 

‘So good.’ Martin can’t help but babble. ‘That’s so good.’

‘Of course it is.’ Even in his distracted state Martin notices how insufferably sure of himself Douglas is. He can’t resent it though. Not here. 

Douglas bends to kiss him again. Shifts to a more traditional technique, working Martin’s cock like a piston in the closed ring of his fingers while his free hand slides into Martin’s hair and his tongue flirts its way into Martin’s mouth.

There’s a definite, accelerating tempo. Martin tilts his hips up into it unconsciously, trying to help it along. 

‘No you don’t.’ Douglas lifts his head, slows his hand. Retaliation for Martin forgetting himself again.

‘Oh God.’ Martin groans as he’s thwarted – how many times now? He doesn’t know, doesn’t count. Daren’t count. ‘Oh God I’m so close.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Douglas muses, still moving languidly, just keeping Martin off the boil. ‘Well alright then. But not until I tell you.’

‘Yes, yes, I promise.’ Martin is frantic. Hectic spots of colour on his usually pale cheeks, eyes bright and feverish, cock jerking like a live thing against Douglas’ hand. It’s a moment Douglas likes to string out, building the tension in Martin’s body, forcing him to keep himself just back from the edge and then.. 

‘Almost there.’ 

And Martin whines, a month’s worth of heat inside him, and tries desperately to hold on to that last sliver of control, can feel it slipping, his body rebelling at this last, impossible demand..

‘Now Martin.’

The relief is indescribable. The gratitude in the instant before every nerve fires in Martin’s body, blinds and deafens him and burns every thought out of his head. 

His cum is thick and lush, clinging where Douglas is still fingering him afterwards. 

Martin wriggles weakly, sensitised, as Douglas’ thumb stretches a thin rope of cum from his slit and rubs it all round the softened and pallid head, massages down to the base of his cock, so thick and proud a minute or two before. Cushiony now, giving to the pressure of fingers, bulging fatly around a gentle squeeze.

‘God.’ Martin says again as Douglas cups and rolls his balls, squeezes carefully there too, refuses to let Martin relax back into his post orgasmic haze.

‘Knees up.’ Douglas has more slick for Martin’s arse as he opens him up, still with his fingers, scissoring and fucking him with them in a parody of sex. Martin moans, twitches, but his legs fall further apart and his cock is already stiffening when Douglas finds his prostate. 

With that being relentlessly teased and his cock in Douglas’ other hand Martin doesn’t take long to cum again, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

He falls back after, drained, but Douglas simply rolls him on his belly, the ropes at his wrists winding round one another, and takes a vibrator from the drawer. 

He presses it to Martin’s balls first, strokes the ridged length of the thing back and forth, nudges the tip between them, lets it slide back along the hard nub that separates them from Martin’s arse, over the already slickened hole. 

Martin is groaning into the pillow, incoherent as it slithers into him, easy as a knife through butter, slick and ready. Pulsing against his internal walls, deeper than Douglas’ fingers can reach, filling him up as Douglas pushes it right the way in, until the flared base of the thing is snug between the cheeks of Martin’s bottom, and Martin is panting and shivering in turns.

Then Douglas is ready to take some time for himself, loosening off the dressing gown he wears for this sort of thing. Kneeling up and rocking into his own fist, breathing heavy, eyes fixed on Martin’s twitching body, Martin’s gasps in his ears. 

He cums, with immense satisfaction, across Martin’s thighs, leans back against the foot of the bed a moment to catch his breath, does the belt of his dressing gown up, and finally rolls Martin onto his back again, the vibrator still working away inside him. 

Martin is a mess. What with the vibrator, and knowing that Douglas was wanking over him, he’s hard again against his will, shuddering as Douglas takes him in hand and finishes him off for the third time.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s in tears, overstimulated, but Douglas has other toys to play with, and although he wipes Martin’s eyes and gives him a few sips of water to refresh him, he soon has him on his belly again, ready for another incursion. 

This one is slimmer in length, a wand shape with a head both flattened and curved, which presses against Martin’s prostate and throbs unrelentingly until he begs for it to stop. Just for a moment. Please Douglas.. 

For answer Douglas’ hands close on his thighs, holding him down as he struggles. 

Not that there is anything Martin can do with his wrists tethered. And he knew this. Put himself here, in Douglas’ power, with his eyes wide open to what it meant. Wanted it, even if he protests now. 

It takes him a long time to warm up, his body too spent to enjoy the stimulus, but at last Douglas feels the hitching of Martin’s hips against the mattress. 

‘That’s right.’ Douglas pulls the vibe out a short way and then pushes in again, encouraging Martin to arch up into it. To alternate between the two sensations, the texture of the damp cotton clinging and rubbing the length of his cock as he humps the mattress, the head of the wand pressing repeatedly, throbbing like his heart, madly, frantically. 

Martin is quiet this time, tenses and stills in Douglas’ hands with barely a sob.

But the sheet is damp when Douglas rolls him on his back again, and he flinches as Douglas strokes his shrunken cock. All pulled into itself like it’s trying to hide. The vibe is off, but not removed, and Martin clenches mindlessly around it, unable to control himself, with no idea what he’s trying to achieve. 

That last orgasm hurt. He can barely move for exhaustion, his eyes streaming. Nose too until Douglas wipes it. He’s utterly filthy, but Douglas doesn’t care, pets him, leaves him be a moment, pets him again. Pulls him back when he tries to roll away, and holds him steady. 

Martin can’t. He really can’t. He’s sorry to let Douglas down but it’s just not possible. He just wants to pass out, please. Is almost asleep when the vibe starts up again. 

‘I can’t. I just can’t.’ Martin’s hips jerk, trying to throw Douglas off. 

His soft, vulnerable cock is immediately closed in Douglas’ fist, Douglas’ hand pressing flat on his thigh, holding him down. 

He keeps him like that until Martin stops struggling and starts to shake instead. 

Then he kisses him, slow and sweet and with absolute control, and Martin is lost again. Intoxicated. And it hurts and it isn’t fair but Douglas is touching him with such absolute certainty that he can make Martin’s body do whatever he wants, that Martin falls back, defeated, and lets it happen. It’s inevitable, really, with Douglas pressing kisses to his throat, willing to take however long it does take, wiping Martin’s eyes when they overflow, stroking over Martins belly and buttocks from time to time, letting Martin recover a little way before starting on him again. 

Afterwards, when Douglas has finally wrung the last orgasm out of him (and Martin is barely conscious), he carefully and gently removes the wand. 

He leaves the tethers though, and the sex sodden sheets Martin is laying on. They'll be wanted in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Since Douglas didn’t, in fact, fuck Martin last night, he does it in the morning. After breakfast and another 15 minutes of toying with Martin before untying him and letting him go to take the coldest shower he thinks he can bear. 

Douglas changes the sheets while he’s gone and starts breakfast, and after two cups of coffee and a full English bends Martin in half like he planned to last night and rogers him vigorously. 

He hasn’t decided yet how long he’ll make Martin wait for his next orgasm. Probably a few weeks, if not another month. He’ll see how well Martin does with the new equipment. 

He’s very fond of Martin. He’d like to see him do well. 

So really, Douglas supposes, he shouldn’t be keeping score. Certainly not on paper. He’s always been competitive though, and it’s nice to look over his tally, when Martin’s gone off on a house clearance job, and tot up how many days he’s left Martin hanging, how many times he’s fucked him and made him beg, or had him on his knees with his bossy mouth stretched around Douglas’ cock. How many times he’s let Douglas tie him up and molest him into exhaustion.

So far he’s left Martin hanging a total of 143 days. 31 days being a new record. There have been 62 instances of Martin begging (twice in two days sometimes) 28 blowjobs and 7 so-called marathons. 

Which means that if it were a competition – which it’s not, of course - Douglas would definitely be winning it.

It’s not really about the numbers though. It’s about how desperate Martin gets, and how compliant he is all the same, apologetic and ashamed when one night - about a week in - his body just can’t take anymore and indulges itself in a wet dream. 

He wants to be perfect, does Martin. It’s one of his most irritating traits, and also one of his most appealing. Especially when he’s wriggling like a naughty puppy, embarrassed to meet Douglas’ eyes. 

Douglas lets him off this time. It’s not like he meant to do it. 

Waking ‘accidents’ are another thing altogether. Even if Douglas is stroking lovingly over Martin’s prostate with a vibrator when it happens. Martin gets a spanking for that, bowed over the edge of the bed afterwards, and next time it will be the cane. 

_Is_ the cane, in fact. Martin is very willing, but his greatest admirer wouldn’t describe him as a quick learner. Hopefully having to lower himself cautiously every time he wants to sit down will help. 

Besides Douglas likes the cane, and it’s nice to have an excuse to use it every once in a while. To wield real force, not just force of personality, to watch Martin perch awkwardly in his Captain’s seat next day, hoping Arthur won’t have one of his unexpected flashes of intuition. 

Douglas has an explanation already worked out, of course, if the worst did happen, but he's not about to tell Martin that. 

Martin broke the rules. Let him squirm.


End file.
